


Les Amis de l’D&D

by goodbee



Series: Angels [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: D&D, Dungeons and Dragons, Friendship, M/M, Makeup, Texting, gonna probably be pretty fluffy tbh, just a lot of pals hanging out mostly, that au where Cosette and Enj are siblings bc that’s what I live for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-14 08:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbee/pseuds/goodbee
Summary: Eponine convinces Grantaire to join her friends’ game of D&D.—in the same universe as Angels Watching Over You, but you can pretty much read it on its own





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a D&D au
> 
> takes place after most of the events of AWOY, but before the epilogue

  
“Babe, you can’t do that.”

“You definitely can’t do that.”

“No, you’re not dead, you’re just unconscious.”

“Now you’re dead. Again. Marius, sweetheart, maybe it would be better if you just helped me out instead of being a player character? You can get snacks and stuff.”

“Oh thank god,” Marius said.

——

“Marius left. We could use another player.”

“Don’t you just need like, four people to play D&D?”

“We want you to come.”

“I barely know these people, ‘Ponine. I’ve only met most of them once.”

“It’s just Enjolras, Cosette, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre. And me. You’ve met all of them.”

“I met them that one time in the hospital.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, cosmically linked to Enjolras, so.”

“I haven’t even seen him when he’s not mortally wounded.”

“Then it’ll be a learning experience,” said Eponine, with an implacable air of finality.

“Fine,” Grantaire conceded.

“Cosette’s house, 7, Saturday. I’ll get you the address.”

——

“Grantaire’s coming,” Combeferre said. Enjolras tried to play it off.

“Is he?” he said.

“Yeah, Eponine convinced him to.”

“Good to know that it took convincing.”

“Enjolras.”

“I just don’t understand him! I may not know social conventions-”

“True.”

“-but if you find out that you have some sort of, of, fated friendship with someone, shouldn’t you make an effort to talk to them?”

“You don’t know the whole story. He doesn’t know the whole story.”

“Shouldn’t he want to find out the whole story?”

“Not everyone is you, Enjolras.”

“I know that.”

Combeferre laid a hand on Enjolras’s shoulder. “You’ll see him on Saturday. You can talk to him then.” Enjolras took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’ll just talk to him then.”

——

  
At 6:45, Grantaire drove up to a small house in a small neighborhood holding a bag of Doritos. The house had a nice garden and a well-mowed lawn, and a literal white picket fence. It was nice. Pleasant.

Grantaire knew that Cosette and Enjolras were siblings, but he seemed to remember Combeferre introducing himself as Enjolras’s roommate, and Eponine called this Cosette’s house, so Grantaire guessed that Enjolras probably didn’t live here anymore. If he ever did, maybe Cosette and their parents (parent? Guardian? Apollo would’ve gotten onto him for assuming) moved after Enjolras went off to college. Did Cosette go to the same college as Enjolras?

Has he been standing in the driveway for too long?

Yeah.

He walked up to the door and knocked.

A gruff, intimidating man wearing a rose-embroidered apron and holding a tray of muffins opened the door. He looked a little bit too old to be Enjolras and Cosette’s dad- and besides, he looked nothing like them. He gave Grantaire a once-over and looked him in the eye for what seemed to Grantaire to be a solid minute.

The man then smiled kindly and held out his non-muffined hand to Grantaire.

“You must be Enjolras’s new friend, Grantaire. I’m his father, Jean.” Oh, so he was their dad. Was Grantaire that bad at judging age? The man laughed.

“I know, I’m old. Enjolras and Cosette are adopted.”

“Oh,” Grantaire responded, a little dumbfounded at having his mind read. He looked back down at Jean’s still outstretched hand and immediately remembered basic etiquette.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said, shaking Jean’s hand. “Yeah, I’m Grantaire. You said that already. Sorry. Um, hi.” Jean laughed again.

“I know I’m intimidating, too. I’m an ex-convict. Enjolras learned it from me.”

“Oh.”

“Come on in. You’re the first one here besides Enjolras and Cosette. They’re in the basement.” Jean stepped aside and motioned Grantaire inside. Grantaire gave him a nervous smile and walked downstairs.

“Grantaire!” Cosette floated over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s so nice to see you outside of a hospital.”

“Oh, hey, Cosette. It’s good to see you, too,” Grantaire said, vacuously. He was staring at Enjolras, who had a blanket in his hand and was staring blankly back.

“I brought Cheetos?” Grantaire said. Enjolras crossed the room and took them.

“I’ll put these in a bowl. Thanks.”

“Uh, where’s you guys’s bathroom?”

“Up the stairs and to the left,” Cosette said. Grantaire walked out, and Cosette whirled around to look at Enjolras.

“What?”

“You didn’t even say hi! You’ve been shamelessly moping because this guy hasn’t talked to you since he saved your life, and when he shows up you just stare like he’s got a tattoo of Napoleon on his face?”

“I barely know him.”

“And you need to be friendly if you’re ever going to get to know him. Oh, hi, Eponine!”

Enjolras dumped Grantaire’s Cheetos into a bowl and placed it in the middle of the table, sitting on the floor and eating one broodily.

\----

“Since we have a new player, you should all introduce your characters. Combeferre, you start, and we’ll go around the circle.”

“Alright.” Combeferre introduced his character as an elven wizard. Courfeyrac was a dwarf cleric. Enjolras, a human fighter. Eponine was playing a tiefling rogue.

“Grantaire?” Cosette said, turning to him.

“Yeah? Oh. I’m a- er, my character is a half-orc bard.”

“Oh thank god,” Combeferre said. Courfeyrac stuck out his tongue.

“Courfeyrac is an awful healer,” Eponine fake-whispered to Grantaire by way of explanation.

Enjolras laughed. Grantaire stared. Seeing him alive, outside of a hospital room, and laughing, was almost a religious experience. He tossed his head back gently, the soft, warm lighting of the basement making his golden curls shimmer like a gentle, comforting fire-

Eponine elbowed Grantaire, and he realized Cosette was talking.

“-we just finished an arc, so you can jump right in, Grantaire. Is that cool?”

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Perfect! Ok, so Enj, Combeferre, Courf, Eponine, you’re all at an inn recovering after your last adventure and mourning the loss of Marius…”


	2. Chapter 2

Cosette smiled at Enjolras as he washed out the now-empty Cheeto bowl.

“What? I’m just cleaning up before I go back home,” he said.

“No, not that - though that is adorable, you’re cleaning up after your friends even though you don’t live here anymore.”

“Then why are you smiling at me?”

“Can’t I just smile at my brother whom I love?”

“This isn’t your innocent smile, Cosette.”

“What did you think of Grantaire?”

“He was… interesting. Very p-”

“Pretty?”

“-proficient in D&D. What?”

Cosette shrugged. Enjolras put the Cheeto bowl away, looking at her distrustfully.

—

grahamcracker: aaaa

Epipen: aaaa?

grahamcracker: AAAA

Epipen: So you liked him?

grahamcracker: he gave an impassioned speech about orc rights

grahamcracker: he’s a human

grahamcracker: does he have a normal setting???

Epipen: Yeah, but not around new people. I think he instinctively tries to scare away those who don’t care about social justice enough. Weed out the weak.

grahamcracker: IM WEAK???

grahamcracker: IM WEAK EPONINE

Epipen: You did fine. And you’ll get used to it.

grahamcracker: if u think im ever going back there you are Mistaken my friend

Epipen: No, you’re coming back.

grahamcracker: dammit ur right 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter bc it’s been forever since ive written and this felt like a natural stopping point


	3. Chapter 3

TaylorSwiftVevo: Hey is this Grantaire?

grahamcracker: yup who is this

TaylorSwiftVevo: You mean you’ve forgotten me already? I thought you loved me. What about the children, Grantaire?

TaylorSwiftVevo: It’s Courfeyrac :^)

grahamcracker: i’ll be taking full custody of the children. you should’ve thought of them when you ran off with Janice. i hope ur happy w her.

grahamcracker: oh cool that’s what i thought. what’s up?

TaylorSwiftVevo: WELL

TaylorSwiftVevo: Cosette left a buncha makeup over here and I convinced Ferre to let me do his makeup but I don’t actually know how to do that and Eponine said you’re an artist so you probably know something about colors and stuff maybe so wanna come over and help?

grahamcracker: lmao sounds great but why are you asking me?? don’t u live w enjolras? he could help

TaylorSwiftVevo: Oh Grantaire

TaylorSwiftVevo: Naïve, innocent Grantaire

TaylorSwiftVevo: Enjolras would panic and use mascara on Ferre’s teeth

grahamcracker: hey maybe that would be a really flattering look u don’t know

TaylorSwiftVevo: LOL I’m willing to try but NEVERTHELESS

TaylorSwiftVevo: Enj will not be allowed within 3 miles of volatile makeup

TaylorSwiftVevo: Besides, Cosette would kill us if we let Enj ruin her stuff

grahamcracker: fair

grahamcracker: **ferre

TaylorSwiftVevo: I think I love you

grahamcracker: i have that effect on people

TaylorSwiftVevo: So you in?

grahamcracker: Hell Yes

——

grahamcracker: E P O N I N E

Epipen: Do u ever text me just to say hello

grahamcracker: hello

grahamcracker: EPONINE

Epipen: What

grahamcracker: courfeyrac just invited me over to hang out w him and combeferre????

Epipen: No Enj?

grahamcracker: does everyone call him that

grahamcracker: no, no enjolras

Epipen: Hold up

Grantaire shut off his computer and laid back on his bed, taking in the nearly complete darkness of his room. He spent a couple minutes staring blankly at the ceiling; just long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness enough that opening his computer back up made him wince from the light.

Epipen: I think they just wanna get to know you better

grahamcracker: no ulterior motives? you abandon me for an eternity and come back with “they just wanna get to know you better”?

Epipen: A) It was less than five minutes

Epipen: B) Shockingly Courf and Ferre are good people

Epipen: Not everyone has an angle Taire get over urself

grahamcracker: that’s not what the guy in white christmas said

Epipen: Go To Bed

\----

Epipen: So they’re totally doing poorly disguised recon right

Cassette: Oh yea definitely

\----

“Remind me again why I can’t be home when Grantaire is here?” Enjolras said, tapping his fingers on his knee.

“I told you, we need to see what he’s like,” Courfeyrac said.

“Couldn’t you see that when he came over for D&D?”

“Oh, Enjolras. Sadly, not everyone is you. Most people act differently when they’re around a couple of pals than when they’re with a group of strangers.”

“He had already met all of us?”

“Only once, in a stressful situation. We might as well have been strangers. Now go on, Joly said you could hang out with him, Bossuet, and Chetta. They’re buying piiizzaaa.”

“You set up a playdate for me so you could judge Grantaire?”

“Yes, now go. They’re already outside, they’re giving you a ride.”

Enjolras looked incredulously at Courfeyrac and glanced at Combeferre, - who gave him a thumbs up and a wave - grabbed his coat, and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost accidentally posted a link to an animation of candy store from heathers instead of the chapter
> 
> ALSO i promise there will be more d&d i just love for texting fics whoops


	4. Chapter 4

Grantaire rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting outside of what he was almost certain was Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s - and Enjolras’s - apartment door. He usually wasn’t this early to things, but traffic was light and he drove fast when he was nervous. He didn’t want to drop in before they were ready though, maybe he should go out and wait in his car so he didn’t look like a creep-

 _Whack_.

“Oh! Grantaire! I’m sorry!”

Grantaire blinked, trying to process what just happened. He was paranoid, and then someone smashed into him- oh, the someone looks angelic, oh, it’s Enjolras. And Enjolras has his hand on Grantaire’s forehead, pushing back his hair, looking for a bruise or cut where Enjolras’s perfectly sculpted chin hit right below Grantaire’s hairline.

“Uh, hey.”

Enjolras drew back his hand. “Oh, sorry. I probably shouldn’t have touched you, I just- Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Enjolras was looking at Grantaire scrutinizingly, like he was studying him. Grantaire awkwardly waved.

“I, um. I should probably go out, and you should probably go… in?” Enjolras said, dusting off his perfect hands on his stupidly red coat.

 _Getting rid of all traces of you_ , Grantaire’s mind helpfully supplied.

_Shut up, that’s not even creative self-loathing. That’s a stretch at best._

“Oh- yes. Yes, I should. And you should. We should- yeah,” Grantaire said, shaking the thoughts out of his head. Enjolras looked at him for a second, then stepped back a little, motioning Grantaire in. Grantaire entered, and Enjolras left with a quick goodbye, but poked his head back in before closing the door to say, “Combeferre, could you check to see if Grantaire has a concussion?” to which Combeferre nodded, and Courfeyrac shooed Enjolras out the door.

“So,” Courfeyrac said. “Makeup.”

\----

Enjolras slid into the cramped backseat of Musichetta’s car, where Joly was holding six pizzas for some reason.

“Hi, Enjolras!” Bossuet said from the passenger seat.

“We couldn’t decide on toppings, so we bought- how many, Joly?” Musichetta asked.

“Six!” Joly supplied.

“Six pizzas. Only four of which have edible topping combinations, Bossuet is disgusting.”

“Hey! I stand by anchovies and red pepper with BBQ sauce. It’s good.”

“I had to put that one on the bottom of the stack so I wouldn’t have to smell it,” Joly said.

“Are everyone’s seatbelts buckled?” Musichetta asked.

“Yes, mom,” Bossuet and Joly chorused. Enjolras laughed.

“Enjolras, what happened to your chin?” Joly asked, leaning awkwardly around the pizza boxes to tilt Enjolras’s chin to where he could better see it. “It looks like it’s starting to bruise.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I ran into Grantaire as he was walking out.”

Bossuet chuckled. “Pfft, literally.”

“Yes, literally, that’s what I meant.”

“How hard did you hit him?” asked Musichetta.

“Pretty hard, apparently.”

“Poor boy. Your jawline is sharp enough to cut glass, I can’t imagine what it would do to his face,” she said. Bossuet laughed, Joly looked concerned.

“We’ll put some ice on your chin when we get home. Chetta, do we have any bandages or anything in the First Aid kit in here?” Joly asked.

“I’m sure we do, sweetheart, but it’s under my seat and I’m driving. I’m sure Enjolras will be fine.”

“I know, but he just got out of the hospital and off crutches-”

“I left the hospital over a month ago, and I’ve been off crutches for two weeks, Joly. A bruise on my chin won’t kill me.”

Joly rested his head on the stack of pizza boxes, looking downcast and muttering something along the lines of “you never know”. Musichetta pulled into the driveway of their small house, getting out to help Joly with the pizzas, passing them two at a time to Bossuet, who carried them all inside.

“How are your scars healing, Enj?” Musichetta asked.

“Fine. They’re not really itchy anymore, and none of the ones on my arms were very deep, so I can really cover everything with a long sleeved shirt.”

Musichetta looked him over, silently concerned, but clicked her tongue and went to go dish out the pizza.

“We got Netflix working again, so we can watch a movie if you want, Enjolras,” Joly said happily, reaching past Bossuet to stop him from knocking down the whole stack of boxes trying to get at the one on the bottom.

“Sure, whatever you guys want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent too long researching long term effects of runnin into burning buildings like an idiot so this chapter’s kinda short ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> we’ll get to makeup next chapter and then dUNGEONS AND DRAGONS AFTER THAT hopefully??? we’ll see, bear with me :,)


	5. Chapter 5

“Do we start with foundation or concealer?”  
“Foundation, I think.”  
“Oops.”  
“It’s probably fine.”  
“Can I put my glasses back on?” Combeferre asked, exasperatedly squinting at Courfeyrac.  
“No,” Courfeyrac said, firmly.  
“Maybe after we do eyeshadow and stuff?” Grantaire suggested.  
“Ok, fine.”  
\----  
Courfeyrac snapped his eighth selfie with his poorly glamorized boyfriend - though, not that poorly, Grantaire actually thought it wasn’t bad, maybe Courfeyrac should start learning makeup - and the three of them sat on the couch. Combeferre turned on the TV and they watched an episode of Mythbusters or something (Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure, but there was science involved).  
“Hey, Courfeyrac?” Grantaire said, over the sound of an explosion.  
“Yeah?”  
“Why did you invite me over?”  
Combeferre turned off the TV and exchanged a glance with Courfeyrac.   
“Well…” he said.  
“You’re one of our friends now - no buts - and you’re especially important to Enj, because of that whole cosmically intertwined thing, so we just kind of wanted to get to know you better. Honest, that’s it,” Courfeyrac said, and Combeferre nodded.  
“Oh. Did I pass the test?  
“With flying colors.”  
\----  
Musichetta kept looking at Enjolras. He didn’t notice, thoroughly engrossed in the nature documentary on the TV, but Bossuet gave her a questioning look.   
“Is he ok?” she mouthed. Bossuet looked at Enjolras and shrugged, then mouthed,  
“I think he’s about to fall asleep.” Musichetta nodded.  
A few minutes later, and Enjolras was out like a light. Joly covered him with a blanket as Bossuet turned down the volume on the TV to a quiet hum in the background, and the three congregated in the kitchen.  
“We think Enjolras isn’t doing great, right?” Joly asked. Musichetta and Bossuet nodded in unison.  
“It’s gotta be hard to go from having a constant companion to being alone,” Bossuet said.  
“Yeah, but I think it might be more than that,” Musichetta said. “Has he seemed more… insecure to you guys lately? I know it’s cold out, but he’s never cared enough about the weather to wear long sleeves all the time, so he’s covering up his scars.”  
“I think he’s just having a hard time adjusting. The one thing he could always count on is gone now, it’d leave anyone unsure,” Joly said.  
“What are we talking about?” Enjolras asked, walking into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. No one answered, but Bossuet wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops it's short again


	6. Chapter 6

It was late when Grantaire finally decided to head home. He wanted to jet before Enjolras came back, avoid any awkward conversations. Which would’ve worked, had Enjolras not been standing in the parking lot, back to Grantaire, staring blankly and shaking slightly.

 

Grantaire wasn’t going to engage, he wanted to ignore it, maybe shoot Courfeyrac a text and tell him what was going on, but Enjolras was standing only a couple feet from the driver’s side door of Grantaire’s car. Confrontation it was, then.

 

Grantaire walked carefully, afraid to scare Enjolras. He reached out and put his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder.

 

“Hey, man, you okay-”

 

Enjolras whirled around. Grantaire tactfully ignored the aggressive redness in his eyes.

 

“Grantaire! I didn’t realize you were still here.”

 

“You’re like, two feet from my car.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Do you-- like, should I text Courfeyrac, or - ?”

 

“No, uh. Don’t. Do that.”

 

“You gonna go up there?”

 

Enjolras paused, considering.

 

“N-o. Not. Yet.”

 

Grantaire sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and crossed over to the passenger side.

 

“Hop in, then,” he said, opening the door.

 

“What?”

 

“Get in the car, dude. If, uh, you want to, I guess.”

 

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, and slid into the car. Grantaire closed the door with a little bit of a slam, - he noticed Enjolras wince - climbed into the driver’s side, and drove off.

 

“You wanna get something to eat, or just go back to my place or something?” Grantaire asked, after several minutes of silence.

 

“Just . . . your place, if that’s okay.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Several more minutes of silence.

 

“Are Courf and Ferre gonna come after me with pitchforks thinking I kidnapped you?”

 

“I told them I was spending the night with Joly and Boss and Chetta.”

 

“So you lied.”

 

“They would assume I got arrested if I said anything else.”

 

Grantaire laughed at that. Enjolras didn’t.

 

“Wait, you’re - you’re serious? Oh my god, you totally are. Do you have a  _ record _ , Enjolras?”

 

“No, but there have been a few… close calls.”

 

“Civil disobedience get a little un-civil?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Grantaire noticed that the red had gone from Enjolras’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling, but - Grantaire was reassured that he might actually be doing the right thing for once. 

 

\----

 

“I’m not saying that protesting is always ineffective, but do you genuinely think that your  _ student group _ can make that much of a difference?” Grantaire was sitting on the floor, jealously watching as his cat let Enjolras pet him (a right usually reserved to Grantaire himself and Eponine) and arguing about activism with his magical soulmate of destiny, or something. It was like, three a.m. though, so Grantaire was tired enough to not think about how surreal the whole situation was.

 

“It’s not about our group, it’s about the  _ people _ , Grantaire! If we can inspire more people to rise up, then they’ll inspire more people - if the whole population rises, doesn’t the government have to respond?”

 

“I mean, no. They’re a bunch of fat, old, straight, white dudes, why would they listen to us?”

 

“So they have a chance of getting reelected.”

 

“Whatever, I guess. If you wanna devote yourself to optimistic delusions, then, hell, you’re probably the guy to make those into reality, honestly.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you’re just, like - you’re charismatic as shit, dude. You could probably get elected to office if you didn’t have such a problem with authority.”

 

“I do not have a problem with authority.”

 

“You  _ just _ said that you once threw a shoe at a teacher.”

 

“A transphobic teacher!” Enjolras defended.

 

“Dude.”

 

“I have a trouble with  _ bigoted  _ authority.”

 

“So, a problem with authority.”

 

“Like you’ve never rebelled against a teacher. It was high school.”

 

“Oh, no, I’ve rebelled  _ plenty _ .”

 

“Then why am I the one with the problem with authority!”

 

“Nah man, I have a problem with it too, I’m just big enough of a man to admit it.”

 

“Well. I’m the one with the cat, so. Who’s the real winner.”

 

“That’s a  _ low blow. _ ”

 

“You’re short, I have to use low blows.”

 

“You wound me!”

 

Enjolras laughed angelically. Grantaire caught himself smiling stupidly.

 

“I, uh. We should probably both get some sleep, huh?” he said. Enjolras looked up at him, with… disappointment? 

 

“You’re probably right,” he said, gently nudging Grantaire’s cat off of him and standing. “Where do you -”

 

“Uh, is the couch okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” Enjolras made direct eye contact, looking serious. “Thank you, Grantaire. Really.”

 

“Yeah, man. Any time. Hope you’re, um, okay.”

 

Enjolras just nodded, and Grantaire went off to his room and passed out. 

 

His sleep was short-lived, however. He awoke only an hour later to the sound of glass shattering. He more or less jumped out of bed, taking just a second to calm the dizziness so he wouldn’t pass out, and hurried out of his room, grabbing the first thing he saw to use as a potential weapon (which happened to be a shoe, but. He wasn’t thinking too hard). 

 

“Enjolras?” he called, quietly. He heard a faint “oh” and noticed yellow light leaking through the cracks of the bathroom door. He knocked.

 

“Enjolras, is that you, man? You okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m. Fine. Sorry I woke you up.”

 

“You didn’t, I heard - oh. I take it my mirror isn’t doing great, then?”

 

“Um, no. Sorry.”

 

“I’m gonna open the door, are you wearing pants?”

 

“Yes but don’t-”

 

Grantaire ignored the half-formed protest and opened the door.

 

Enjolras was standing there, staring at Grantaire, glass on the floor and blood on his knuckles. His shirt was in a little pile in the corner, giving a full view of the scars spread across his chest and arms and back. And his face - his eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears and a streak of blood (hard to tell if that was from a cut or spread from his knuckles), and he looked  _ small _ . Grantaire had met the guy half-dead in a burning building, and talked to him for the first time in a hospital room, but he had always seemed like he filled the space, he was an undeniable presence. But not now. Now he looked tiny. Grantaire probably stared for longer than he should’ve, but Enjolras didn’t make any move, either.

 

Grantaire cleared his throat. He’d meant it to be quiet, but the sound seemed to ring through the room and down the hall.

 

“There - hold on.” Grantaire grabbed a rattier - but clean - hand towel and wrapped it around Enjolras’s bleeding hand. “Don’t move.”

 

Grantaire left for a minute, and came back wearing shoes and holding two steaming mugs of tea. He set the tea down, stepped forward, and lifted Enjolras out of the glass and out of the bathroom.

 

“I could’ve-” Enjolras started, when he’d been put down.

 

“You’re barefoot, you could’ve cut yourself.”

 

“You could’ve brought me my shoes.”

 

“I didn’t remember where you left them. Besides, you’re basically a twig, it probably would’ve been harder for me to pick up your shoes than to pick you up. Go grab the tea and sit down, I’m gonna grab some bandages.”

 

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue, but he complied. By the time he had seated himself back on the floor and the cat had started rubbing against him, purring, - a strange mirror of the way he’d been sitting only about an hour before - Grantaire came back with some bandages and a damp rag. He sat across from Enjolras and wordlessly started cleaning the blood off his hand. After a beat, he spoke.

 

“Gonna tell me what’s up?”

 

Enjolras took a fortifying sip of tea, looking anywhere except at Grantaire.

 

“I’m not… insecure about my appearance. I don’t really worry about it,” he said.

 

“I wouldn’t either, with a face like yours.”

 

“That’s - well, that’s the thing. You called me charismatic earlier, but. I’m not-” he took another sip of his tea. “I’m covered in scars now, Grantaire. I have one down half my face. I’m not -  _ pretty _ , anymore, and it wouldn’t  _ matter _ , but -” Another sip. Grantaire had no idea where this was going, but he could see Enjolras fighting off more tears. “I used to hate my face, Grantaire. I hated it so much. No one took me seriously, you know? I was just some pretty face, the things I  _ said _ and what I  _ believed  _ \- it didn’t matter. People just listened, they just went along, because I was  _ pretty.  _ But,” Enjolras stared into his cup, then looked up at Grantaire. He looked helpless.

 

“Grantaire, what if no one will listen to me at all anymore?  What if you’re right, and no one really cares about all this, about - everything. If I - if I’m not  _ pretty _ , will anyone care? Will anyone listen anymore?”

 

Grantaire tied off the bandage on Enjolras’s hand, but he didn’t let go. He held Enjolras’s hand and looked him dead in the eye, as terrified as that made him. 

 

“Enjolras, I genuinely think that you could look like me and the world would still love you. You’re - beautiful. I mean, sure, you’re pretty, even with the scars. But the way you talk and the way you stand and the way you smile and make too much eye contact and listen to every word your friends say and the way you  _ care _ is  _ beautiful _ . I don’t believe in much, dude, but I fuckin believe in you.”

 

Enjolras cried, and Grantaire gave up on getting any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG I'VE BEEN FOCUSED ON MY OTHER FIC SORRYYYYY


End file.
